


Forgotten

by painted_pain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/painted_pain/pseuds/painted_pain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten

Castiel opened his eyes and blinked slowly, the garish colours of red and pink pressing themselves into his memory, increasing the rebounding ache within his skull. Several blinks later, he began shifting himself into a sitting position. He didn’t quite make it. The room started to spin and Castiel flopped himself back down. He frowned at the ease at which the all too human gesture came to him.

 

  
Taking another look around the room, trying to ignore the pink and red striped curtains directly in front of him, Castiel remembered Dean placing him on the bed, a vague, distant memory painted with his own laboured breathing and pain lancing through his head. Dean had said something about recuperating, getting his “angel mojo” back. Castiel sighed. Why could Dean not understand that he did not comprehend these references and colloquiums?

  
Deciding it was time to make another attempt at up righting himself, Castiel began to lift himself up. Despite the dizzying head rush, he managed to remain vertical, his legs splayed out across the coverlet.

  
He kept his eyes closed to prevent the vulgarity of what Dean had called the Honeymoon Suite from clawing its way into the back of his eyes. He was in enough pain as it was.

  
Several minutes passed and with each moment, the throbbing receded. Casting his senses out into the world of 1978 took longer than expected, but he persisted. He encountered a hint of incredible, beautiful power. A tug pulled on his Grace, a whisper, a murmur of...Heavens most glorious warrior.

_  
Michael._

  
It was a lingering trace but enough for Castiel to fully understand how much of Heavens wonder and glory was no longer with him. In comparison to Michaels’ pure white light, he was tainted. He was falling. Slowly, painfully, almost imperceptibly. He no longer belonged to the Host of Heaven.

  
“I am falling.”

  
Castiel let the grief and pain and despair wash over him. It hurt and overwhelmed his previous pain with such voracity. It engulfed him, swallowed him whole. He was alone in a way he had not realised before. Castiel spent several minutes trying to breathe, a further reminder of how he was becoming attached to this vessel. It was becoming his body while his Grace slowly slipped away.

  
The enormity of this emotion was unexpected although its cause was a natural consequence of rebelling. Castiel knew this. It didn’t stop the pain.

  
He slipped back into unconsciousness.

*             *             *

When Castiel awoke, darkness had fallen. Once again, he spent several moments just blinking, trying to come to terms with the emotions he was experiencing. He did not know what to do. Everything felt so new, fragile, as if he would break and shatter.

   
As he lay there, Castiel remembered Dean and Sam. Anna was dead, he knew this. Another weight was added to the already monumental grief he was carrying. It could have been avoided. But Sam and Dean were alive, just not here.

  
Castiel shot out of the bed. They were not here, in this timeline. They were gone. Gone. Michael had taken them back; he could sense the remains of the power that had been used. But, what about him? Had they forgotten? Was he that unimportant? That insignificant? Did he mean that little to Dean? Did he mean  _nothing?_

  
These questions rolled about his head. He had never felt so inconsequential. He was once an Angel of the Lord. What was he now?

  
Castiel paced across the room. He had to return to 2010, even if he was going to remain so trivial to Dean. Did Dean still not realise all he had done? All he had lost? How he had accepted Sam? He had called Sam his friend, despite everything. He had to go back because it was his time. Even if he didn’t want to.

  
As he prepared for flight, Castiel wondered what was the point to all this. Is this what God wanted him to feel? For the first time in his life, Castiel began to doubt  _God_. Doubt his plans. Everything had fallen apart.

  
Castiel hurled himself into his present, with utter carelessness, expecting the slicing pain.


End file.
